


A Symphony Of Silence

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Kane (Band), Smallville RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-08-22
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8709133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: When Jared Padalecki helps Chad Michael Murray renovate his new house, he never imagines that it’s going to change his life. Stumbling across a dusty trunk, Jared discovers 10 year old newspaper clippings reporting on the suicide of promising teen actor, Jensen Ackles. Then strange things start to happen, and Jared has to consider if he’s going crazy or, even worse, if he’s being haunted. Intrigued and drawn to the picture of the young star, Jared secretly begins digging into the mystery surrounding Jensen’s reported death. But not everyone in tinsel town is happy that Jared’s set on reopening old wounds. And the deeper Jared goes, the more he begins to understand the danger that he’s in. Ghostly occurrences aside, can Jared work out who is going to help him and who is going to betray him before he looses the chance of love?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** For Maria9631

10 years ago

 

The mountain road is dark. The few scattered stars and silvered dying moon dance behind grey jagged clouds. There’s not a breath of air and the trees stand in solemn silence. There is a lingering disturbance in the air, like the unwelcome presence of an approaching storm and it’s combined with an acrid smell of burning fuel and rubber.

 

The reason for this peculiar feeling lies in the past. One hour ago to be exact. When this unremarkable stretch of road bore witness to an event that was heralded with a piercing shriek of tyres and the whine of a motor engine pushed to its furthest limits. It was a noise that raced and tore desperately along the narrow twists and turns. Pitching and rolling around the curves in reckless abandon. The roar built and built until the apex of a sharp turn where there was a sharp crack of metal. Like a bullet being fired from a shotgun, only louder. As the tyres fought to find traction and the smell of seared rubber was ingrained on the asphalt, the car spun sideways towards a frail wooden barrier, which stood as gatekeeper between the road and the steep cliffs below.

 

In elegant slow motion the car shattered through the defences and continued its waltzing, deathly glide over the edge. Plumes of dust and dirt ballooning as it fell. Tree limbs snapping and breaking as the car concertinaed to the bottom. When it hit the valley floor metal imploded into a brilliant fountain of golden fire. 

 

No one else comes along that lonely stretch of road tonight. Not a single soul.

Tomorrow: there will be tears and grief aplenty as a new day dawns. 

 

 

Present day

 

“Holy fuck, Chad what have you bought?” Jared’s standing on the sidewalk with his mouth open; catching flies isn’t a good look on him.

 

Chad rather smugly, for a reason known only to him, pats Jared on the back. “It’s good isn’t it?”

 

Jared looks at his best friend as if he’s grown three heads, and then back at the monstrosity of a house that Chad plans on calling home. “It’s different,” he ventures. Which isn’t as bad as saying the place is as ugly as fuck and falling down around his ears.

 

They stand there for awhile in admiring stupor until Mike, who got the short straw of driving the equally decrepit van that Chad’s hired to move his furniture, comes up and proceeds to give them both a hearty shove. “I’m not carrying all the boxes as well you know. I want a drink. God give me a drink. Beer. No, make that scotch…and oh, holy fuck…..” He spots Chad’s new acquisition. “Tell me you’re not moving into that?”

 

Jared tries hard not to laugh by biting on his bottom lip, but in the end he can’t. Doubling over in a fit of giggles he points at Mike’s flummoxed expression. “Dude,” he gasps. “You know it’s bad if Mike won’t even live in it!”

 

Mike does a double take, punching Jared on the arm. “I resent that. Are you going to rag me forever about moving in with Mandy?”

 

Jared shrugs. “Probably.”

 

Mandy is an ex. The ‘ex’ if Jared understands it right. She’s the woman who Mike will love forever. They were going to be married, or they were until Mike moved into her house, or rather into her parent’s house while said parents were still in residence. Needless to say one full month of Mike Rosenbaum and his little winsome ways proved to have a breaking point. Mike has bemoaned Mandy’s loss ever since. Cynically, Jared thinks its Mandy’s double D breasts that Mike has a lingering affection for. That and Mandy’s mothers home cooking. 

 

“Can we focus, please?” Chad’s looking agitated. “I want to move in today, not next fucking week.”

 

“Chad, you can’t stay here, there’s a hole in the roof where the chimney stack was and the front door’s hanging by its hinges.” Jared points out the dilapidated buildings faults. “It looks like something out of a James Herbert novel!”

 

Chad’s not read James Herbert, and he’s certainly never heard of Crickley Hall. His hard earned cash has paid for this house, and he’s damn well not going to be budged by his less than enthusiastic friends.

 

“At least let’s go in and take a look.” Chad’s suggestion is met with pained expressions. “I’ll buy dinner and beer….” Okay, so maybe bribery will be what gets things moving, but honestly Chad doesn’t care. He’s excited. This is his home. His mess. 

 

Jared sighs, and pulls Mike along the overgrown garden path. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

 

As they head inside, stepping over the four missing floorboards just inside the door, Jared tries the light switch. It’s not a huge surprise as the lacklustre sizzle of electricity fails to illuminate the lone bulb hanging above their heads.

 

“Nice.” Mike intones. “Real classy. I hope you brought some candles?”

 

Brandishing candles, whipped from his back pocket, Chad flicks his lighter to ignite the wick. “I’m just the best boy scout,” he mocks.

 

Mike rolls his eyes, snatches a candle and heads off in the general direction of the kitchen, in the vain hope that the previous owner has left a stash of vintage wine.

 

“So, where do you want to start?” Jared asks, eyeing up the staircase in the corner of the vast hall. “I’m not sure we should go upstairs. It might not be safe.”

 

“You’re a girl Padalecki. No wonder Sandy ditched you.” Chad waves his candle in Jared’s face, narrowly missing scorching the ends of Jared’s hair.

 

Jared scowls, but his mind is instantly conjuring up the image of a long haired, petite brunette. Sandy, Jared reflects was a lifetime ago. At one time she had been his world; his high school sweetheart and later fiancé. They were once so close, peas in the proverbial pod, and it had killed him when he’d had to call their relationship off. But they’d grown apart. Jared had gone with Chad to college while Sandy had stayed in the tiny town where they’d grown up. Their love had simply drifted away. It had been like watching snow melt, the end of his first love dissipating into nothing. College had opened Jared’s eyes to the possibilities of life, and he had dreams and ambitions that didn’t fit with the life he’d had before. Sandy was Jared’s past, not his future. What lay ahead was still a mystery, and Jared liked not knowing what it would bring just fine.

 

“Upstairs, okay I can do that.” Jared states flatly, stalking forward to lead the way. Chad laughs and the sound echoes madly through the empty rooms.

 

Trying to hold a candle steady while creeping up the edges of a rotting staircase aren’t a lot of fun. Hot wax has a habit of dripping without warning and Jared’s got stinging tiny splashes on his hands, shoes and shirt. It doesn’t help that the staircase spirals and split banister rails are slicing into his fingers. But eventually, Jared makes it to the landing. 

 

The house goes on forever. One dark shadowed room after another. It’s not a friendly place, but Jared supposes with a bit of tender loving care it could be transformed into something liveable. Inching forwards he peers into the first room. It’s quite small. Probably a child’s, and as Jared holds the candle towards the window, he can see a strip of peeling wallpaper with teddy bears and flowers.

 

“Interesting décor,” Jared grimaces, as he brushes up against the open door, and curses knowing that a black streak of dust has just ruined one of his best shirts.

 

Chad hums quietly and shrugs moving off into the next room. It’s more of the same only slightly larger, and instead of teddy bears there are puppies and clowns. 

 

“Again, interesting décor,” Jared repeats, ineffectively wiping at his jeans the latest victim of his candles ire. 

They investigate four other rooms, with Chad humming a different nursery rhyme in each. It’s an eerie sound that gives Jared chills, but instead of complaining he remains heroically silent, knowing Murray will only use it as ammunition later. Carefully, as the floorboards are no better than the ones inside the hallway, they make their way to the doorway at the far end of the landing; Chad struggling as he finds it difficult to turn the knob. The wood has warped and it rattles in its frame, groaning as Murray put his weight against it. Shards of peeling paint fluttering onto a threadbare carpet in a blizzard of minute flakes. With a loud heaving sigh they fall into the room as the door, suddenly, gives way and they stumble like two naughty school boys caught with their ears against the wall. The room smells musty and Jared suspects that the distinctly slimy gunk growing around the window frame is mould. But it’s a large room and with some restoration it would look quite nice. There’s an old fireplace that looks well used, crumbling ash still present in the grate and an ornate, if dirty, ceiling rose that in its time would have been impressive. Bravely, giving no mind to the cobwebs, Jared cautiously draws back the tattered curtains, allowing the faint pale sunshine of the autumn afternoon inside. His breath catching as he sees that the room has a south facing aspect, allowing for a stunning view of the mountains in the distance. 

 

“Told you it was great, didn’t I?” Chad crows, and for once Jared can’t find the words to argue. The place might be a ruin but it’s large and in a good location.

 

“Hmm, lets hold off on the celebrating until you know how much it’s gonna cost you to fix it up.” Jared may be a dreamer but when it comes to money he can’t help being practical.

 

Chad huffs and flounces out, heading for the next unopened door. From there it’s a succession of rooms with a similar theme. One has a large bed. No mattress, just the wrought iron rails. It looks disturbing in the gloom. The ghost of double beds, Jared wildly thinks. No doubt it could tell some stories. The room on the opposite side of the corridor reveals a rocking chair listing idly to one side. Another broken remnant of a life long past. 

 

“Dude, this is depressing.” Jared moans. “I have a spare bed at my house you know.”

 

Chad, for the first time, looks thoughtful. He’d been wearing his rose coloured glasses when he’d first viewed the house. This time around with the damp squibs of Jared and Mike, he’s beginning to understand their point. There is going to be quite a bit of work to be done before he can move in.

 

“I guess.” Chad heads back to the first bedroom refusing to let Jared complete his victory gloat.

 

“Hey, come on.” Jared follows. “It’s not that bad. Give it a couple of months and this place will be fantastic. I’ll be here every day. You name what you want fixed.” Jared feels a bit bad and the words are out his mouth before he can stop them.

 

“Done.”

 

Now, that was easy. Too easy. Jared’s starting to feel that he might just have been had. Chad, the little shit, had no intention of moving in here. He just wanted free accommodation until this place was fixed. It was a neat little trap. And Jared had walked right into it.

 

“CHAD!” 

 

But Chad’s gone, his feet dancing over the damaged floor with skilful ease. Jared’s left snatching at dusty air, cursing as he can’t believe Murray had the brain cells to come up with such a clever ruse. And it’s while Jared’s exploring all the expletives in his extensive vocabulary, he spots the trunk. Its one of those large metal things with big padlocks and its strange but he never noticed it before.

 

Juggling his candle carefully, Jared gives the lock a tug and twist. It’s rusted shut. Probably not been opened in years, he muses his foot lashing out to give the box a swift kick. It gives a dull thud. Interesting, there’s something inside.

 

“Murray, did you get the key to this thing?” Jared bellows at the top of his lungs.

 

Chad doesn’t reply. Instead its Mike’s dulcet tones that sing back up the stairs. “Get your ass down here Padalecki, I want beer and Chad’s buying.”

 

With a forlorn look at the battered trunk, Jared frowns and heads back down the stairs. He can always break it open tomorrow, he thinks.

 

The trunk in silent splendour sits and waits.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s only been a week, but Jared’s endurance of living with Chad Michael Murray is almost at an end. Sure, Chad's a friend and he has sympathy, but……and there’s the catch, there is a ‘but.’ The ‘but’ that had began on the first day, Chad moved in, and had steadily spiralled from there. 

 

To clarify: when Chad moved in, Jared didn’t expect most of Murray’s furniture to move in with him. What used to be Jared’s lounge is now stocked with thirteen cardboard boxes and a sofa, which bears suspicious stains. In the guestroom, Chad has stacked a further five boxes, an over stuffed leather chair that smells faintly of mothballs, a state of the art hi-fi system with no plug, and a life size card board stand up of Indiana Jones. Why Indiana Jones, Jared’s been too afraid to ask, but he suspects it may have something to do with a bull whip. 

 

But it’s the bathroom, which causes the largest cringe worthy moments. Chad’s a slob. A slob who leaves his week’s worth of Sponge Bob underpants festering on Jared’s shiny linoleum floor.

 

“I’m doomed.” Jared bemoans his suffering to Chris. 

 

Sitting on the doorstep of the renovation nightmare from hell, Christian Kane has been the last, of what Chad affectionately calls ‘The Scooby Gang,’ to show up and offer help. 

 

In simple terms, Chris knows how sneaky Chad can be, and he knows to duck beneath the radar when Murray asks for help. 

 

The reality of Kane’s absence is much different. Chris is a moody bastard, and Chad’s learned not to beg for assistance unless he’s fucking desperate.

 

This time it wasn’t Chad who begged. It was Jared.

 

“Dude, you are never gonna learn are you.” Coming from Chris it’s not a question. 

 

Jared smiles faintly, and prays that Kane won’t kill him. Chris maybe a good six inches or so smaller than Jared, but he’s a tough nut who won’t take any shit. And it causes Jared physical pain when those cool blue eyes of Chris glares in his direction. It makes Jared consider how many teeth he can stand the thought of loosing when Kane flips out as he sees the inside devastation of the house.

 

Yeah, and so far, Jared has only given Chris the escorted tour of the outside aspect. He’s saving the inside for after a few beers. At least this way Chris won’t be able to take off in his truck.

 

Kane’s not stupid though and he eyes the cheap Spanish beer like it’s poisoned him. “If I didn’t like you Jared…..” he leaves the sentence unfinished, and Jared swallows hard.

 

“Give me a break, please. Chad’s a menace and I want my life back!”

 

Chris doesn’t look moved or bothered. “And? That means something to me because?”

 

Jared scowls. It should mean a whole lot of something to Chris. Chad helped stick Kane back together two years ago. Chad the mouthy idiot, who ogles girls boobs in all his spare moments, was the only one of the gang who stopped Chris from drinking himself into an early grave. Christian Kane, for all his bad ass behaviour, had been a shit faced mess for the best part of six months. Jared couldn’t fix him, Mike’s jokes couldn’t penetrate his brain, Tom was in Alaska, and Steve…..well, Steve was the cause of the problems in the first place. Steve Carlson the cheating boyfriend, who did a runner to Detroit and shacked up with a motorboat salesman. 

 

It had taken Chad three bottles of Jack Daniels and an undisclosed amount of sex to get Chris out of his funk. 

 

Jared has tried really, really hard not to think of Chad Michael Murray, sex, and Christian Kane in the same sentence. But if he has to go there to get Chad out of his life, his house and his fucking bathroom, then my god, he’ll do it.

 

He gives Kane a pointed luck, and is relieved when Chris sighs and takes a long, long drink.

 

“Okay then, let’s show you the inside.” Jared says cheerfully.

 

Following reluctantly, Chris trails him, and it’s probably as well Chad’s at the hospital with Mike, who needs stitches in his ankle after going through a kitchen floorboard.

 

“This,” Jared waves his arms expansively, “is it.”

 

“Welcome to my hell.” Kane mumbles. He looks like a defeated kitten deprived of Grandma’s knitting wool.

 

Ignoring Chris’ pathetic looks, Jared takes him through the entrance hall and towards the kitchen before he remembers Mike. “Best not go any further, I think Chad’s still got the plan of the ‘safe’ floor boards in his pocket.”

 

Chris rolls his eyes.

 

“It gets better,” Jared’s eyes positively beam back at him. So what if he’s getting a kick out of tormenting Chris. Doesn’t he deserve to, after what Murray’s put him through?

 

Grabbing a torch, Jared’s torture seems to be working as Kane follows him quietly up the stairs. “It goes back a long way.” Jared announces like this is good news, and not the best part of nine months hard work ahead of him.

 

Kane with gritted teeth nods. “So I notice, and you let the fucker buy this hole?”

 

Um…..well…..that’s a tricky question, with loads of pitfalls. You see, Chad made this appointment with a realtor and Jared kind of didn’t turn up. 

 

“I see.” Oops, Kane gets it alright. Jared may have a few seconds left to live.

 

While Kane is grappling with the process of how to relieve Jared of the torch, so he can escape this death trap Murray’s bought, Jared has an epiphany or something like one anyway.

 

As Jared, suddenly, shouts, “Oh, fuck I forgot!”

 

In spectacular ‘what the hell style,’ Chris is left catching cobwebs, as Jared’s feet recklessly carry him into the first bedroom on the left.

 

“Padalecki have you been sniffing something?” Kane calls suspiciously after him, as he’s forced to grope along the corridor, because Jared’s disappeared with their only light.

 

“In here.” Jared calls, followed by an ominous thump and then a curse.

 

“JARED?” Kane’s not scared, but his tone is apprehensive. He’s well aware that if anything happens to the monkey boy, it could be him that’s getting Murray as a long term house guest. The sex was good, but he doesn’t want to live with Chad.

 

Jared, who is alive and relatively uninjured, replies happily, “Its okay. I’ve got it.” 

 

“Got what? Jared did you hit your head? Fuck! Man, bring the fuckin’ torch back!”

 

As Kane inches around the doorway he gets dazzled by a wavering torch gripped underneath Jared’s chin. And Chris stares at Jared who is kneeling on the floor, trying desperately not to choke on all the dust he’s kicked up, while jiggling the lock on a rusty trunk.

 

“Do you have a hammer or something heavy?” Jared asks, not looking up.

 

“What? Do I look like I carry a hammer with me? Dude, what are you doing?”

 

Jared actually ponders this, because when Kane gets that pissed off ‘I want to rearrange your face’ look ingrained in every fibre of his body, he does look very much like a guy who would carry a hammer. 

 

“Okay, so forget I said that.” Chris states flatly. He might be slow sometimes, but he’s not that dumb. He knows his own reputation and some of it is well deserved. Plus Jared might be the only one of the gang that knows a month ago he caught up with one particular salesman from Detroit. 

 

Needless to say Chris won’t be visiting Michigan for another few thousand years.

 

“I need a hammer.” Jared gives the lock another shake. In true Christian Kane fashion it remains obstinate and refuses point blank to budge.

 

“I’d have to go and fetch one.” Chris’ words don’t sound like an offer, and at this point Jared’s reluctant to go and find one either. Jared’s been meaning to smash that lock off that trunk now for the last five days. Yet every time Jared promises himself that he will bring one with him the next day, it’s not just the hammer Jared forgets. It’s also the trunk. It’s like the damn thing has a curse, or a cloaking device off Star Trek. Jared only remembers he simply has to get in the rusty box when he falls over the damn thing.

 

“Could you help me carry it downstairs?” Jared looks hopeful.

 

Kane doesn’t. If a man Jared’s size needs help with that trunk then the fuckers heavy. “Um….” Chris searches for a way that he can say ‘no’.

 

“Please?”

 

Jared might not have baby blue eyes to flash, but he’s got a killer hangdog expression, and he’s not afraid to use it. “Oh, go on. It’s more awkward than heavy. Look.” He proves his point by raising one end off the ground by a couple of inches.

 

With Jared walking backwards, he and Chris successfully, and without too many mishaps, manhandle the mysterious trunk downstairs. 

 

“What next?” Kane asks unhelpfully, eying the dirty trunk with suspicion. It’s a big ugly ass thing, covered in cobwebs, but Jared’s gazing at it like he won the lottery.

“Dude, seriously, why is this thing so damned important?”

 

Jared frowns as he scouts the hallway for something heavy. There must be a loose piece of floorboard or some sort of tool. “Hey, do you think….”

 

“No.” Kane interrupts automatically. “I helped carry the thing down here. That’s all you get.”

 

“But….”

 

“No.”

 

This is why Kane has never had Chad as a house guest. He knows how to refuse in a very non subtle way.

 

Jared’s just about to challenge Chris when Chad bounces through the door; skipping in hopscotch fashion over the floor to stand on top of the trunk.

 

“CHAD. Get off!” Jared growls. 

 

Chad grins. “I bet you say that to all the girls and guys, don’t you? This is why you never get laid.”

 

Kane raises one eyebrow. “Damn,” he says with feeling, “I never figured that one.”

 

It’s so not helpful having Chad back at the house, and certainly not in Christian Kane’s company. How the pair ever became friends Jared doesn’t know, because as soon as Chris acknowledges Chad they start trading insults. Some of them hit pretty near the knuckle.

 

“So, did you miss me?” Chad flutters his eyelashes at Chris, not in the least embarrassed. “I bet Jared’s not the only one that needs to get laid. Fuck, you are so easy Christian.”

 

Chris scowls. “Fuck off, you moron.”

 

“Classsy. Real classy. Since when we’re you interested in hunks of junk? Oh, that’s right I forgot…”

 

“Don’t go there,” Chris warns, giving Chad a hearty shove off the trunk.

 

“Me?” Chad drops on his ass and howls in laughter, spending the next 10 minutes teasing Chris about his blue balls, which interestingly, Chris allows.

 

Jared rolls his eyes, because he’s seen much of this performance before. It always starts the same way, and ends up with the pair as drunk as skunks and trying to deny the night before. Chad swearing point blank he was drugged. As much as the two enjoy some genuine, if weird friendship, Kane holds no deep meaningful affection for Chad. Christian Kane’s heart is too battered, and bleeding only for Steve – the man he couldn’t say ‘I love you’ to.

 

“I need a hammer!” Jared announces to the world in general. He’s still guarding his precious trunk.

 

Chad blinks and considers the rusted metal, “There could be a dismembered body in it.” He points this out like he’s doing Jared a favour.

 

Chris, spotting Jared’s patience is wearing rather thin, orders Murray to the kitchen to retrieve Mike’s abandoned tools.

 

“You’re doing this then?” Kane observes. Jared nods, he feels compelled to.

 

Chad hands Jared the hammer with a saucy wink, and crosses his arms, “Have at it big boy.”

 

“Big boy?” Kane repeats smirking. “Not talking about yourself for once then Murray!”

 

Jared smashes at the lock, fixating on the idea that it’s Chad’s smile he’s obliterating. The lock groans and doesn’t move. 

 

“Put some effort into it Jay! Chad rallies from the sidelines. Suddenly, he’s interested as he doesn’t have to do the hard work of breaking into the damn thing.

 

Jared’s sweating as he continues to work at the defiant lock, but it, finally, gives with a creaking whine. 

 

“Well, open it then!” Murray’s peering down at Jared, who’s sat back on his haunches with sweat dripping down his face.

 

Jared throws the hammer at Chad, which regrettably Murray catches. 

 

Now he’s done it, Jared feels a strange reluctance to open his rusty trunk. It’s nothing he can put his finger on, but it feels somehow wrong. His intuition tells him that looking at the contents of this box is going to be bad, bad news. While his curiosity is telling him to do it anyway, jeering at him like he was a naughty child.

 

In the end the decision is snatched from Jared’s hands by Murray, who heaves the lid up and coughs as he’s engulfed in a cloud of dust and rust. “This thing should come with a health warning,” Chad moans, thrusting the hammer at an unsuspecting Kane.

 

Jared feels certain Chad’s going to be proved correct, but now it’s open he’ll have a look inside anyway. The trunk may have been rusted shut, but there is still an extraordinary amount of dirt inside. But – yes! There is stuff in here. It’s an exciting moment that lasts approximately five seconds. There’s an obligatory baby’s blanket folded into a neat square on the top. It may have been pale yellow once, but now it’s more a sickly cream with smudges of grey dust. Jared lifts it out almost reverently, and rifles through what’s underneath. There are toys: a fire engine with a broken ladder, a sports car with its roof all battered, and a few loose crayons that look well used. But it’s towards the bottom of the trunk that Jared’s burning to get to, where he can see crinkled sheets of paper with half finished pencil drawings. They look like they’ve suffered some water damage, but Jared can still see they’re quite well drawn. He pulls them out and studies the carefully shaded pictures of the house. The detail is precise and Jared can feel the love for each room in each tiny charcoal mark. This must have looked when it was in its prime, and astonishingly, it looks quite lovely. Full sweeping drapes and panelled wood. Solid wooden furniture and a kitchen that looks warm and sunny. 

 

“Huh.” Chad frowns.

 

Kane rolls his eyes. “Is there anything else? I’m gonna kill you if you made me carry this thing down here for a few busted toys and crappy pictures.”

 

Jared wants to protest they’re not crappy, but instead his hands comply automatically to delve back inside the box. And he pulls out……

 

“Newspaper clippings!” Kane sounds well pissed off.

 

Jared turns the torn pieces over and scans the head lines. One is a full front page spread, and apart from a torn edge and smattering of dust, he can read the entire article.

 

“Hollywood pressure claims another young life.” Chad intones, reading over Jared’s shoulder. “Fuck, Jay is this it?”

 

Jared wants to deny that this isn’t all he’s found, but the evidence is scattered all around him.

 

Kane growls and throws the hammer close to Jared’s feet. “I’m going for a beer. Murray, are you coming?”

 

Jared it seems is not invited as the pair head off, leaving sunlight streaming through the open door. 

 

Jared sighs melodramatically, at least Kane is here and another pair of hands will help them finish quicker. He’s not that bothered that the pair have even gone off without him, and left Jared to do all the work. He doesn’t care, because he’s too busy reading the rest of the article; eyes hungrily devouring every word, his heart racing faster as he unravels the story. 

 

It’s not an uncommon tale he supposes; a tragedy born out of fame too young. 

 

The Daily Echo….

 

…In a press conference given at 9am on Tuesday morning, PR guru Jeffrey Dean Morgan confirmed, ‘Hollywood had lost one of its most promising stars of the last decade.’ In a brief statement, Morgan announced to the waiting press, that the burned out wreck of a sports car found at the bottom of a notorious mountain road, did belong to his protégé Jensen Ackles. 

 

Mr Morgan quoted, ‘Remains found in the sports car have been taken away for analysis. This is a necessary formality, but we are quite certain, given numerous witness statements, that Jensen was driving his car when the accident occurred. I would like you all to be respectful at this terrible time. The results from the pathologist’s laboratory will be released as soon as we have them.’ 

 

The former child icon was hotly tipped for a role in this summer’s biggest blockbuster, and his future within the movie business was described by Morgan as ‘potentially epic.’ Jensen, who had always shied away from the glamorous side of Hollywood, had just celebrated his twenty first birthday at a lavish party in Beverley Hills in the company of his on/off girlfriend Danneel Harris. Miss Harris has not been available to comment since the tragedy, and speculation is mounting that the pair had some form of altercation. Other members of Mr Ackles entourage have also advised that the star was unhappy over some of his management’s decisions, and that he had started drinking heavily over the last couple of months. 

 

Is this another case of fame too early? Will Hollywood be able to state it had no role in this young man’s demise? 

 

This reporter met Jensen Ackles a year ago, and I found him to be a bright, articulate young man who loved his craft. Warm and funny, Jensen appeared sensitive to the pitfalls of a life lived in the spot light, and it is a huge blow that he met his end in such a terrible way.

 

Jared squinted at the accompanying photograph, which hadn’t been the best quality when the paper had been printed. He whistled; Jensen Ackles had been quite a nice looking man. Feverishly, Jared began routing through the remaining clippings, driven by a need he couldn’t explain. The next article wasn’t as large, but its headlines were in big bold type:

 

“ACKLES – SUICIDE CONFIRMED!”

 

Suicide? Jared dropped the first clipping.

 

‘Former PR to Jensen Ackles, Jeffrey Dean Morgan confirmed the news everyone in Hollywood had been dreading. His client, twenty one year old former child star, Jensen Ackles had taken his own life. Breaking down at the end of an emotional statement where Morgan explained:

 

‘The pathologists lab have confirmed the identity that the remains found in the car wreck on Mountain Road on Monday 1st March are those of Mr Jensen Ackles. The lab, have concluded their investigations and advised Jensen was not intoxicated at the time that he was driving. We also have a further statement from the police department who are also satisfied that the vehicle Mr Ackles was driving did not suffer from defective brakes. There were no skid marks at the site of the incident, and the conclusion from this evidence would be that Mr Ackles deliberately drove his car at the safety rail.’ 

 

Mr Morgan was visibly upset, and refused to answer the questions that have been circling Hollywood for the last week. With Miss Harris refusing to give a statement, and several associates of the deceased star also refusing to speak, speculation mounts over why Jensen Ackles ended his life in such dramatic fashion.’

 

 

Jared gasped, this was some story. He glanced at the date in the top corner - March 22nd 1999. Eleven years ago, that would have made Jared seventeen. He had been busy discovering who he was at seventeen, enjoying the comforts of his high school sweetheart Sandy and making plans for his future. Now it just seemed wrong that Jared had missed all of this. That Jensen had died while Jared had been partying and getting on with life.

 

“Not your fault.”

 

Jared almost jumped out of his skin. “What the fuck….”

 

He looked up and shone the torch into the recess of the darkened room beyond. “Is…Is there someone there?” 

 

Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a reply.

 

Was Jared talking to ghosts? Maybe he was going mad.

 

“Maybe, you should put the newspaper back in the trunk and forget about it.”

 

Ok, this was so not happening! Jared struggled to his feet, the clippings crumpled between his fingers. “Fucking show yourself!” he demanded. This was bound to be Murray’s idea of a joke, or Kane’s way of exacting his revenge.

 

The voice - a man’s, Jared recognised that much, laughed delightedly.

 

“You’re not being clever you know.” Jared was angry now. First he got to help restore this ruined house, which was straight out of a Hitchcock movie, then he had Chad move in with him, and now……now he was talking to himself!

 

“Warmer,” the voice replied.

 

Jared’s torch scanned the ceiling looking for hidden cameras or listening devices.

 

“Who are you wise ass?” he shouted up the stairs. “Why don’t you show yourself?”

 

“Because, I’m not here you idiot.”

 

Right that did it. Jared chucked the papers in the trunk and slammed the lid.

 

“Good decision. Now walk away.”

 

It sounded like some sound advice, and Jared took it.


	3. Chapter 3

Jared knows he’s in trouble the minute Christian Kane swaggers into the kitchen to lean indolently against Chad’s kitchen table. “If you think some bullshit fairy story is going to get you out of moving that fuckin’ heavy rusted piece of crap, I got news for you Padalecki - it isn’t!”

 

Jared admiring his sparkly handiwork, which is Chad’s freshly cleaned sink, opens his mouth to protest before shutting it just as quickly. Arguing with Chris is at the best of times hard going. Arguing with him while he has a beer bottle in his hand is just pointless and if Jared’s honest, dangerous. 

 

And as if to emphasise this fact, Chris scowls. “Giving me the silent treatment won’t work either. You’ve been dodging your friends for weeks. You know, I’d rather go to hell than say this, but I think Murray has a point.”

 

Jared blinks. What the….Chris Kane and Chad may have some fuzzy lines over what classifies as ‘friendship,’ but one thing that Chris never does, is agree with Murray on anything. 

 

While Jared’s processing this radical and mind altering piece of information, Chris takes a long drink of beer, his eyes roaming over Jared’s dishevelled appearance. “Dude, seriously. Just look at you. You’re letting yourself go. You need to go out there and get yourself a date. Get laid. Have some fun.”

 

Jared eyes snap wide open and he can’t help but notice the evil smirk splashed all over Kane’s ridiculously knowing face. Mortified, Jared buries his head in his hands and groans. He has a feeling he knows where this conversation is going, and of course, it’s all Murray’s fault, or to be specific Chad’s unnaturally sharp hearing.

 

Jared has been keeping a low profile for quite some time, and it’s all because of that blasted trunk! He can’t stand to think of it, because if he does he’ll have to honestly question his sanity. I mean trunks don’t talk do they? Disembodied voices can’t miraculously come from nowhere. Yet, as Jared’s scoured every inch of Chad’s crumbling house and not found any hidden wires or alcoves, it would seem he’s left with only two possibilities, either he’s going stark raving bonkers, and living with Chad that’s not something he’s ruling out, or the trunk is….well something Jared doesn’t want to own up to thinking about. And so he’s taken to avoiding his friends since the ‘incident,’ as he calls it, coming home late and going directly to hide in his bedroom. 

 

Now, Jared is a social creature and spending his time in isolation isn’t natural, and it certainly isn’t comfortable. It makes him stressed. And when Jared gets a little stressed he needs to unwind and take, for instance, rather long and hot, steaming showers, where he can unwind and let out some tension. And that’s not something Jared thought would ever embarrass him, but then again, he’s never had paper thin walls and Chad Michael Murray under one roof together.

 

Jared had been taking one of his relaxing showers last week, enjoying the pulsing beat of water running down his chest and thighs. Drawing out the growing tingle that danced swiftly up his spine as he slicked, silky bubbles up his dick, letting them froth across the tip. It’s a private indulgence and one he had been looking forward to. 

 

But Jared had forgotten all about Murray. And okay, yeah maybe he had groaned a bit too loudly and thumped on the wall once or twice as he’d shot his load into the drain, but he so wasn’t expecting, when he exited the bathroom in just his favourite loose grey sweat pants, to be met with the grinning lunacy of Murray in his face.

 

“Good boy Jay! I thought you’d forgotten what your cock was for!”

 

Jared can easily remember how horrified he felt. He’s kind of feeling the same way now. He’s no prude but really – Chad and Chris? He shudders. 

 

“Please can we change the subject?” Jared pleads, fingers unconsciously twisting and distorting the innocent dishcloth in his hands.

 

“On one condition.” Chris draws out his words as he savours a mouthful of his drink. 

 

Chris is never this nice and polite, and Jared so knows what’s coming.

 

“Go on, tell me.” Jared flinches, preparing for the worst.

 

“You move the freakin’ trunk!”

 

It’s such a simple and innocent request but Jared’s screwed. He can either: sit down and discuss the finer points of his masturbatory habits with Christian Kane, or he can move ‘the trunk.’

 

Kane sensing Jared’s hesitation wanders over to the side and opens another beer. He holds it out to Jared, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I’m all ears boy,” he whispers.

 

Yep, that’s Jared’s cue to leave.

 

 

****

 

It isn’t until the end of the day, and a little after Chris and Chad have left, before Jared tentatively approaches the hallway. 

 

For the last three weeks he’s been using the back door and confining his activities to the kitchen, and the overgrown jungle that is Chad’s garden. Jared doesn’t want to go into the hall, and what’s more he’d even agree to Chad living with him permanently if it would get him off the hook. 

 

But it won’t. 

 

It can’t, because Kane’s on to him. And Jared doesn’t want to envisage a lifetime with Chris on his heels.

 

On the threshold, Jared closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and counts to three. Internally he’s chanting he can do this, while his stomach contradicts him with a nervous, queasy roll. With reluctant feet he steps into the hall. 

 

The trunk in full rusty splendour sits there waiting for him and Jared eyes it nervously. It looks innocent enough and it’s exactly where he left it; lid down, the lock sitting off to one side. It even seems kind of pathetic. It’s just an old metal box abandoned and unwanted. 

 

But it’s not harmless his mind screams, and Jared sighs forlornly as he stares at it, fingers curling inwards towards his palms. He feels sick and light-headed to the point of fainting. His insides are in turmoil, while in contradiction his skin itches with the almost unbearable need to rush over and pull out the contents that lie inside. 

 

Why? He doesn’t know. It’s not like he isn’t aware of what’s inside the trunk. Oh, and as soon as he thinks of them, Jared’s head is howling to read those newspaper clippings once again. 

 

This is bad, because it can’t be good, and a cold sweat beads Jared’s face. He’s being ridiculous he knows he is, but….. And there it hangs – the dreaded ‘but’. There is something about this trunk that is neither, nice or natural, and Jared isn’t sure that he wants to uncover why that is. 

 

But once again the ominous image of Chris Kane floats into his thoughts and one thing is certain Jared doesn’t have a choice about moving it. 

 

The alternative is a showdown with Christian Kane. And while he might be a friend, Jared’s internal organs are telling him that an introduction to Kane’s fists, are something that’s best avoided.

 

So he’s left with – the trunk. 

 

With a deep breath, Jared pulls himself more or less together. Okay, so maybe if he doesn’t open it he won’t be on the receiving end of any disembodied comments? Jared’s only planning on taking it out to the shed at the bottom of the garden, and seriously, where’s the harm in that? 

 

As Jared stalks around his problem he gives the trunk a quick tap with his foot. A dull thud echoes back. Okay, well that wasn’t scary. Yes, he can do this. He can. He just needs to pick it up.

 

Bending down, his fingers are just curling around the sharp, crumbling edges to lift it up when a voice calls out and Jared’s heart leaps into his mouth and an icy cold sweat breaks across his skin. 

 

“Do you need a hand with that?”

 

What the….Jared let’s go quickly like he he’s been burnt, eyes flying automatically down towards the trunk in disbelief. 

 

“Hey, are you okay?” the voice asks considerately.

 

Holy, motherfu….Shit! With his heart thundering in his ears it takes a moment for Jared to focus on the direction of the voice, and then the penny drops – it’s not the trunk at all. 

 

It’s coming from behind him. 

 

Oh, hell. 

 

In a pirouette that would put a good ballet dancer to shame, Jared whirls, and smacks straight into a guy with wild brown hair and deep blue eyes. He leaps backwards, knocking his legs against the trunk.

 

“Oh. I….Um…” Jared babbles, unable to string any words together.

 

Blue-eyes, laughs and steadies Jared by reaching out to grip his elbow. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

 

Oh, and Jared feels an enormous surge of relief, because that’s it - ghost. That’s the word he’s been avoiding for the last three weeks. 

 

“Yeah. Um…I…Sorry,” Jared flushes. “Who are you?” He’s blunt and Jared knows he’s being rude, but under the circumstances….

 

Blue-eyes lets go of Jared’s arm and smiles, showing a line of perfect white teeth. “I’m from next door. My name’s Misha.”

 

“Misha?” Jared repeats, allowing the unfamiliar name to slide across his lips. For some reason the name makes him smile.

 

Blue-eyes nods enthusiastically. “Cool, huh?”

 

Jared shrugs somewhat baffled by this stranger. “Yeah, I guess. Look, I’m sorry about before, I didn’t hear you come in.”

 

Misha flashes Jared another amazing smile, before turning his attention to the house. “Door was open,” he explains as he steps past Jared, carefully avoiding the trunk. “So, you bought the old place then?”

 

Jared turns to find Misha’s heading towards the lounge and it’s a curious thing to watch as this complete stranger simply strolls inside like he does it everyday. 

 

“Um, no. A friend of mine bought it,” Jared explains, completely forgetting what he was supposed to be doing, as he hurries to catch up with this handsome and nosy neighbor. 

 

Misha’s stood in the middle of the lounge as Jared peers curiously around the doorframe. Misha has his handsome face turned up towards the ceiling, and he looks incredulous as he takes in the myriad of new, tiny spot lights. The lounge was been undergoing a major overhaul. The old cream wallpaper has been ripped off and replaced with stripes of cool jade, and the old floorboards have been repaired and covered with brightly patterned rugs. It’s a bit gaudy for Jared’s taste but then its Chad’s home not his. 

 

“It’s different,” Misha comments, tilting his head sideways as he considers a large green lava lamp Chad’s placed on a corner table, before he moves off and continues with his explorations.

 

Jared frowns. Is this guy for real? “Excuse me, but you’ve just wandered in, and I haven’t got a clue who you are, and this isn’t my place….”

 

Misha halts and turns to face Jared, hitting him full force with that amazing smile and a look of total innocence. Jared gulps, and he can’t help but think how Misha looks like a disobedient puppy caught in the act of wilful destruction of his master’s slippers.

 

“I’m sorry. I should have asked.” Misha looks a little guilty, and Jared knows he’s being sucked in and played with by those big blue eyes, but damn the guy just does it so freaking well. “I used to be in here all the time,” Misha adds. “You know before…..” his voice trails off a little regretfully.

 

Jared’s eyes widen shocked. Before? Misha knew who lived here before? And automatically, Jared can’t help but wonder, does Misha know who the trunk belonged to?

 

But Misha has already slipped through the door into the kitchen before Jared has time to form a question. Damn he’s quick. But as Jared’s just about to follow him he hears the front door fly open, and those are footsteps he knows all too well; cowboy boots scuffling over the step. Which means it must be….and oh, hell…. Before Jared can shout out a warning Christian Kane’s legs have already connected loudly with the rusty trunk. 

 

“JARED!!”

 

Oh, fuck. It’s just not Jared’s day.

 

Hoping Misha isn’t here to help himself to anything that’s not been bolted down, Jared hightails it back into the hallway.

 

It would be a hysterical sight if it weren’t for the fact its Kane sprawled lengthways across the hall floor. He’s gone headlong over the trunk. It’s almost poetic justice. And it’s a stupid thought, as Jared struggles to control a chuckle, but he thinks the trunk has an air of smug achievement at having caught Chris out.

 

“You were supposed to moving this fucking thing!” Chris growls, glaring up at Jared from beneath his long tumbled chocolate hair.

 

Trying not to smile Jared helps him up. “I am. I was just….”

 

But Kane interrupts him snarling, “Thinking of another damned excuse! Padalecki you are beyond lame.”

 

“I think this is my fault,” an amused voice cuts the mounting tension. 

 

It’s Misha back from his jaunt into the kitchen. He waggles his eyebrows at Jared, before flashing a dazzling smile at Chris.

 

Chris blinks. “Who? Who are….Jared who is he?”

 

Kane rather bewildered bats away Jared’s offer hands.

 

“I’m Misha.” Misha bounds over and shakes Kane’s hand enthusiastically.

 

Jared bits his lip to hide his smirk. Kane looks simultaneously dumbstruck and overawed, which is a first. Those blue eyes have locked onto Chris’ and it’s clear who has the upper hand. Misha wears an aura of easy charm like it’s a second skin, artfully distracting Kane from wanting to beat the shit out of Jared. It seems this Misha is a man who knows how good looking he is and he’s not afraid to use it to his advantage. Where as Chris, who has considerable charm of his own, hasn’t got a clue.

 

“Mi..Mi…” Kane stammers.

 

“Mi..sh..a.” Jared repeats slowly. “He’s from next door.”

 

“Oh.” Kane says clearly not really grasping the concept of a neighbor. 

 

Misha’s struggling not to laugh, which isn’t helping Jared to keep a straight face either. The guys humour is infectious.

 

“I was just showing Misha around. You know how it’s changed and all that.” Jared explains as Chris still looks a little confused. 

 

“How it ….” and Chris’ eyebrows shoot up. “OH.”…” and then his brain is heading off on a different track entirely. “You’re showing him around. I get it.” He gives Jared a pointed wink.

 

And Jared wants the ground to open up and swallow him, because that’s not it at all. But there’s no way of stopping Chris now he’s on a roll. 

 

Chris elbows Jared in his side. “You sly dog, Jay. You kept that one quiet.” He grins and nods at Misha, who thankfully has retreated into his own little world and his eyeing up the staircase.

 

Jared mortified grabs Chris’ arm and manhandles him into the lounge. “We won’t be a minute,” he shouts to Misha, who doesn’t seem to hear him anyway.

 

“Padalecki let go of me!” Chris isn’t amused now that h thinks he knows what this is all about. “You wanna dick around you tell someone, that way your party won’t get spoiled. You get me?”

 

“What? No.” Jared rubs his head. “That’s not it. I’m not…”

 

Kane pouts. “You should he’s kinda cute. It would certainly make you less of a fuckin’ grouch.”

 

“Christian!”

 

“Oh, get over it Jared. I know things are rough for you at the moment. You have Murray living with you for a start, but it’s no excuse to go all pious.”

 

Pious? It actually isn’t a mind boggling stretch, Jared imaging himself as someone who goes in for celibacy and abstinence. He may be a fit, healthy and nice looking guy who should be out there enjoying his life, but if he’s honest there hasn’t been anyone since Sandy. But then Chris is hardly in a position to lecture.

 

And then Jared’s stuck on the scenes he’s had to witness and live through since Chad moved in with him. With Kane trying hard to get them both drunk as he tries to blot out a whole chunk of the life he’s lost.

 

Jared, suddenly, feels braver than he has a right to be. “Okay. I tell you what. I’ll go see if I can bag myself some fun with the neighbor, while you go and try to win Steve back.” 

 

It’s a low blow. It’s not as if Chris can go back to Michigan, at least not without being arrested. 

 

“I don’t need Steve.” Kane spits through gritted teeth.

 

Wow, that’s a first. Jared still has all his teeth.

 

“I think you do.” Jared crowds over Kane. He’s not tried intimidating the fiery southerner and either it’s going to gain him a reprieve or two broken legs.

 

Kane’s spinning around in tight angry circles, dark hair swirling like a thunder cloud.

“I think you need to go find your boy.”

 

“And I think you need to think long and hard. You want to fuck with Murray the rest of your life, go for it. You want to get your shit in order and actually be happy, go find Steve.”

 

Kane’s eyes are dangerously narrowed, fists clenched tightly by his sides. Whatever truth is in Jared’s words is being drowned out by anger and loneliness. Every inch of Chris is burning with a desperate need to lash out and hurt someone, and that someone’s about to be Jared.

 

Except just as it seems that Jared’s kidney’s are in mortal danger, Misha’s head appears around the door. “Hey, lover fancy coming upstairs?” he winks at Jared, before disappearing from sight.

 

It would be hysterically funny if Chris wasn’t so dangerous. His fury doused by Misha’s extraordinarily accurate timing. 

 

Jared, however, knows when to quit and he takes the win with grace. “Yeah, why not.” 

 

Jared leaves Chris gaping in open mouthed astonishment as he skips quickly up the stairs. 

 

Holy shit, did he just do that? Did he really stand up to Christian Kane? Judging by the way his heart is pounding to climb out of his rib cage it would appear he did. Taking a minute to reorder his thoughts Jared remembers it was thanks to Misha that his internal organs are still functioning. But where is he? It’s growing dark and there’s still no power to the bedrooms so it’s hard to know which way Misha went.

 

“Misha?” Jared whispers, which is oddly funny because it’s not like he’s waking anybody up.

 

Misha doesn’t answer as Jared slips into the first bedroom, the one where he found the trunk. It’s empty and this time it feels depressing, and for some reason that makes Jared desperately sad. With the window newly cleaned the fading grey light throws emphasis on the fact that it’s not large room, and with the fireplace in the centre it makes it feel smaller still. Feeling wistful, Jared imagines it would be cosy when it’s decorated. The grey walls painted a yellow colour that will catch the sunlight. Yet there’s something else that unsettles Jared. 

 

Something he can’t quite place. 

 

“Misha?” Jared calls again wanting company if he’s going to roam around these rooms.

 

Again there’s no reply and Jared’s just about to leave when his eyes drift towards the door, and a shadow hiding behind it.

 

No, it can’t be. That’s impossible. There is now way in the world…. Jared’s heart has stopped and he feels like someone just walked over his grave, because that right there is the fucking trunk! 

 

“MISHA?” his voice is tinged with panic and he backs up against the opposite wall.

 

This time Misha answers him as he steps into the bedroom. “What’s wrong Jared, seen a ghost again?” against the backdrop of the dark doorway he doesn’t look so innocent and childlike anymore.

 

Jared stammers to try to find his voice because Misha’s words are ironic. “Did you…” Jared’s voice cracks. “Did you bring that trunk up here?”

 

Misha doesn’t look where Jared’s pointing and his eyes, in the gloom, are dark and fathomless. “It’s back where it belongs isn’t it?” he asks, and then he’s gone before Jared can think of a reply.

 

None of this is right. 

 

Jared knows there’s something wrong with that damn box and with this charmingly mysterious neighbour seems to know it too. 

 

Hot on Misha’s heels, Jared’s swiftly down the stairs, feet taking the uneven steps two at a time. 

 

But at the bottom he’s greeted by a scowling Chris.

 

“Where’s Misha?” Jared demands hanging onto the banister as he struggles to catch his breath.

 

Kane looks blank. “You lost him already?”

 

“Chris. If you know where he is, just tell me.” Jared’s had enough. He’s freaked out, tired and he wants to go home and forget that this house exists.

 

But Chris doesn’t know, and what’s more Chris didn’t see Misha come down the stairs.

 

And as Jared takes in this new and disturbing snippet he begins to feel his grasp on reality slip a little further. But as usual Chris won’t let Jared have his breakdown in peace.

 

“Hey, look on the bright side you might have lost a hot piece of ass, but at least you moved that trunk.” Chris notices the dust lined gap on the floor.

 

Jared unconsciously lets his eyes drift to where Kane’s looking and he sucks in a breath of arid air. A tiny portion of him is hoping now the damn trunk is back in place that will be the end of all this freakiness. 

 

But a much larger part of him, the part that is shaking its self to pieces in terror, knows this was just the beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

A Symphony of Silence – Part 4

 

 

Jared walks slowly back to Chad’s house head bowed and lost in thought. He’s returning from a perplexing visit to the broad spectrum of personalities who call themselves Chad’s neighbors, where so far, Jared has encountered a street magician with an impressive collection of ping balls, a 70 year whiskery female kleptomaniac, and the fairly standard few who could fall into the category of ‘ordinary’. There’s a couple in their mid forties who proclaimed they ‘lived for world peace'. In Jared's mind he has a strong suspicion they were hippies in the 70’s and were actually active recruiters and devotees for free love. That aside it was interesting to note that neither they, or the elderly couple two doors down, who had moved in 5 years ago had ever heard of ‘Misha’.

 

Jared’s questions actually caused such an impact that he had spent a good hour trying to reassure the elderly pair that no one was trying to steal their lawnmower; whilst dodging the over-zealous bottom pinches of the would be hippies, and their invitation for him and Misha to join their private party on Saturday night.

 

It’s not surprising really that Jared sighs for what must be the umpteenth time that morning. He can’t exactly call any of them liars, although it’s tempting; just a little bit.

 

“What’s up Padalecki? Still not found your blue eyed boy?” 

 

Jared, having meandered slowly back to Chad’s house lost in consideration of his feet and the whole ‘Misha Dilema,’ raises his eyes, and then promptly sighs again as he spies Christian Kane perched on the top step with Murray half lounging in his lap. With Jared’s options of escape quite limited he chooses the best option he can come up with. He ignores them, which is probably not the best idea he’s had today.

 

“Awww, Jay didn’t you put out? I expect he got bored with you wanting him to hump furniture around,” Chad teases. Jared’s predicament is a total tour de force as far as Chad’s concerned, and he’s been laughing himself silly since Chris filled him in on the previous night’s events. 

 

Jared wilts a little more and he knows he shouldn’t take the bait. He knows it down to his bones, but somehow he just can’t seem to keep his mouth under control. “First off – he’s not my boy,” he growls this at Chris. “And secondly,” Jared scowls at Chad. “I didn’t ask him over to help me do anything!”

 

Chad rolls his eyes and glances up at Chris. “Do you believe him?”

 

Kane shrugs in typical pissed off fashion. “Like I care.”

 

Jared flinches at the hard flinty stare Kane’s firing his way. It seems some of the things that Jared said haven’t been forgiven, or forgotten. And it’s not as if Jared can take any of it back either, because they both know that most of what he said was the truth. Honesty aside, it’s also a given that the truth and Christian Kane don’t mix well. Jared should have known better.

 

More uncomfortable than he’s ever felt around Chris, Jared opts to excuse himself as soon as possible. “I’m gonna go in and….” Jared starts to make a hand gesture but stops as soon as he realises that Chad will only take it the wrong way.

 

Chad yawns. “Mike’s in the kitchen, but don’t go in there.”

 

Jared eyebrows rise suspiciously. “Why not?”

 

“Another of life’s bad dicks just showed up,” Kane snarls sweetly, gesturing towards a car parked up the street. Jared had noticed it on his travels up and down the street but had moved on despite the fact it had seemed disturbigly familiar. As he followed the direction of Chris' finger Jared chuckled, the vehicle stuck out like a sore thumb; quite a contrast to all the sensible family cars owned by the majority of Chad's neighbors. It was one of those expensive sleek black beasts with darkened windows and oh, but that’s.....Jared’s eyes widen in shock. If he hadn’t been so distracted he would have recognised a hell of a lot earlier that the smart SUV is none other than Tom Welling’s. “Tom’s back? For good?”

 

Chris shrugs again, that same nonchalant gesture of his. “Fucked if I know. Mike’s an ass he if buys into any more of Tom’s bullshit.”

 

For once Jared can’t agree more. Christian Kane might be a bone head when it comes to admitting his feelings, but in Tom’s case – he’s even worse. Tom is married and has the whole white picket fence thing going on. His life is positively peachy down to his shiny car and fancy matching job. Almost as tall as Jared, Tom’s a walking advertisement for the picture perfect citizen, right down to his toes. Or at least he is on paper. In real life it’s a little different. Tom’s a player. He’s a guy who has a serious amount of money in his pocket and a total disregard for whose life he stamps all over. Tom will hook up with anything in a skirt, and steal anybody’s wife or girlfriend; even Mike’s.

 

“Shouldn’t someone be in there supervising them?” Jared’s asks worriedly, because Mike has vowed to dissect Tom with a fork, and his threats had bothered Welling enough for him to take a 9 month contract in Alaska.

 

“They’re not in kindergarten Jared. Give them some space, they’ll work it out.” Chris snaps abruptly.

 

Unconvinced, Jared for once in his life lets it go, and boldly steps over Kane and Chad to get into the house. It’s not long before he hears the sound of muted voices coming from the direction of the kitchen, but he can’t tell what’s being said because the door’s been shut. Maybe he should go in and say hello? Hmm, pop his head around the door and check that no one’s bleeding from an open wound perhaps? While Jared hesitates and considers breaking up Mike and Tom’s reunion based on the flimsiest of excuses that he’s making coffee, a muffled sound of scuffing feet echo’s down the stairs.

 

“What the….” Jared mutters beneath his breath before hightailing upstairs, taking the creaking unstable boards two at a time.

 

Of course, like all the best movie scripts, he just had to run up without a torch, and even with the windows newly cleaned the best the light can be called is dim. Jared is torn between concern for whatever Tom is brewing in the kitchen and outright curiosity of what could be moving around up here. Frustrated he pauses on the top step before moving out onto the landing. It’s eerie. Spooky quiet in the way houses that have stood empty for a long while often are. The atmosphere weighted down by a palpable taste of something old, and an uneasy feeling settles in his bones. Fearfully, four steps take him to the first bedroom; the bedroom that contains the rusted box; once more ensconced behind the door. 

 

Jared pauses for a second time, swallows the rising lump in his throat, and looks off down the corridor wondering if the noise could possibly have come from another room. But his feet won’t take him further. And despite knowing he really doesn’t want to do this Jared pushes the door slowly open, and takes an immediate step back, as he’s hit with the faint scent of aftershave. This is wrong. Maybe there’s an intruder or even the mysterious Misha? He’s got no weapon to defend himself with if he gets attacked and who’s likely to come to his rescue Chad?

 

But the shuffling footsteps, that first peaked his curiosity, are too intoxicating to ignore, and their mystery has a strong hold on Jared now. With trepidation he nervously steps inside, heartbeat hammering in his head, but……there’s no one save one lonely box.

 

Cautiously, Jared kneels down and runs a hand over the rough surface. It feels cold, so cold as to send tingling prickles of ice up his arm that make his joints ache. Oh shit! This was such a bad idea. The trunk has never made him feel like this before! Biting his lip Jared knows he needs to run back down those stairs and leave the fuck alone, but in good old boy scout fashion he can’t let it drop. He’s damn near frozen now and he’s uncomfortably aware that the temperature has dropped a good ten degrees since he first came in the room. The freezing bite has him doubled over and practically seared to the floor. 

 

Jared gasps, fingers shaking as he fumbles with the lid. What the hell is he doing? No. Stop. He has to get out of here! His mind argues with his feet and it ends up losing.

 

He can’t go, and it’s not just because he can’t move away. Jared needs to open that old rusted box. He needs this in a way he’s never experienced before, and as frightening as that feels he knows he can’t stop. He must open it now. He needs, he needs….and then its open the lid dropping against the wall with a resounding bang. 

 

The sheer relief Jared feels is like the rush of orgasm, spiralling in a burst of pleasure that has him gasping. It’s almost impossible not to let the thin moan of ‘yes’ slip off his lips, and as Jared’s eyes greedily survey the contents inside his hands are already reaching out to rub the baby blanket against his cheek. It feels soft despite its age and unconsciously he cradles it into his arms; not resisting the overwhelming feelings of safety and happiness that soak into him. It’s almost like Jared is connecting with the memories the blanket holds, and somehow they’re every bit as deep and raw as they must have been when they were wrapped around a baby. 

 

With the blanket still in one hand, Jared slides out the newspaper clippings and reads them avidly. He knows he’s behaving irrationally, but he can’t seem to slam the breaks on, as his mood swings from drowning in elated emotion to suffocating with sadness at their headlines. ‘Jensen Ackles’ suicide rings inside his head, and Jared is knocked sideways with intense anger and a burning need to know why would a young star who had everything throw his life away. For the life of him Jared can’t explain his feelings; only knows that they are outside of his control.

 

“He always had that effect on people,” a quiet voice murmurs from the doorway.

 

The voice should have spooked him, but inexplicably it doesn’t, as completely unconcerned Jared looks up to see who has spoken. It doesn’t come as an enormous surprise when he realises who it is. “Misha,” he states flatly.

 

Misha steps into the room and carefully pushes the door closed behind him. “I knew you couldn’t leave well alone.” He frowns at Jared in that curious way he has, head tilted to one side.

 

Jared mimics him equally confused. “I don’t know what you mean?”

 

Kneeling down beside Jared, Misha gingerly takes one of the newspaper clippings from his hand. “Jensen was always in the limelight even when he didn’t want to be.” Misha’s voice sounds dreamy like he’s recalling a particular memory. “That’s the price you pay for being a child star; always in demand I suppose.” 

 

Jared’s fingers let the baby blanket fall onto the floor and he snatches hold of Misha’s arm so tightly that it has to hurt. “You knew him? This Jensen?”

 

Misha laughs and flashes his teeth in genuine humour. “There was a time when virtually every household in America knew who Jensen was.” He sounds oddly bitter but Jared doesn’t believe that’s it’s because of jealousy. It’s something more, something altogether deeper.

 

“Who are you?” Jared asks wanting to shake the truth out of this ‘Misha’ character. This interloping stranger that’s as disturbingly weird as the freakin’ trunk.

 

Misha pry’s Jared’s fingers from their death grip on his arm; his touch firm but gentle. 

 

“Did you know Jensen?” Jared asks again, unconsciously holding his breath before Misha replies. 

 

“Yeah,” Misha hands the clipping back to Jared. “Once upon a time we were close, at least for a while. But….” his voice trails off sadly. “All things end, and I don’t know what happened to him.”

 

Jared almost says he drove his car off a damn big cliff, but he doesn’t think that will help so he keeps quiet. And the silence lengthens from seconds into minutes, but it’s not awkward in anyway. It’s almost like they’re communicating with feelings instead of words; Jared from the emotions that pulled him to hug the baby blanket and Misha with his memories. They remain that way on the dusty floor for almost half an hour, until Misha looks up at Jared and whispers, “Will you help me find out what happened to him?”

 

Jared looks puzzled, but he can feel his heart give a double skip; almost as if his insides had been waiting for this question. “What?”

 

Misha gazes at him so earnestly. “Will you help me to find out what happened to Jensen?” He begs, “Please.”

 

Jared always was a sucker for a pretty face, even though Misha is very much a guy. He muses it must be because Misha has such pretty eyes, but somehow he knows that now its way more than that. Jared needs to know what happened to make Jensen drive off that cliff. What would make a man on the verge of being meteoric kill himself? He nods. “Okay. I’ll help you, but I’ll be honest I don’t have a clue where to start.”

 

Misha stands and steps backwards, blending into the long shadows. “Try the beginning Jared Padalecki. That’s where everything started after all.”

 

Before Jared can come up with a suitable reply, Misha’s somehow opened the door and quietly slipped back into the corridor. If Jared had an ounce of common sense he would follow him, or at the least challenge him as to how no one’s heard of Misha Collins, but he doesn’t move. Instead he remains there staring at the aged photo. It’s very poor quality, giving him almost no impression of what Jensen really looked like. Jared can feel his guts twisting into knots. He should have a good picture of Jensen. The dead star at least deserves to be remembered for what he looked like in his prime. “Library,” he mutters snapping his fingers. “The library’s bound to have something.”

 

Intending to go down to the library as soon as he can get the feeling back into his legs, after so long kneeling on the floor, Jared staggers to his feet and wobbles painfully down the stairs. He has shocking timing.

 

The kitchen door flies open with a crash, sending shards of peeling paint into the air like confetti. It had been too much to expect Mike not to vent his anger on a less than sincere Tom Welling, who collapses in the hallway with a kebab skewer stuck into his head.

 

It takes a only a loud shout to Chris for help before Jared has the confidence to let go of Mike’s arms, but it takes a further two whole days of talking Mike out of going after Tom with a chainsaw. 

 

On day three, Jared almost feels like cheering that he’s makes it to the library and, with a little direction from an infatuated school girl who follows him around like a lost puppy, he quickly finds a whole archive of records devoted to the celebrity who is rapidly taking over Jared’s life.

 

It’s almost like watching the excitement of a high school prom as Jared takes the treasured microfilm to a table at the far end of the hall, and feeds it into the slot. Entranced he scrolls through endless updates of the local magazine until lo and behold - the first clue he has to the life and death of Jensen Ackles!

 

Daily Herald – July 1995

 

[‘Local Boy Hits Hit’s Hollywood’ – There is a new star in waiting in Hollywood tonight as local boy Jensen Ackles gets selected from hundreds of youngsters to join not only a top model agency but also a top secret new TV show.]

 

Jared skims the blurb, which goes into more detail on the model agency and the campaigns Jensen will be featured in to the small bio at the bottom.

 

[Jensen Ackles now a sweet sixteen first moved into the town when he was just a baby before moving to a boarding school in Texas at the age of ten. Jensen was raised by his guardian who is an influential figure in Hollywood, and who has encouraged his charges talent. It is speculated that with Jensen’s star on the rise he will need a getaway from the drama and intrigue of the film world and will be spending his down time at a home he has mentioned, more than once, that he loves. The town will certainly benefit from the rise in popularity of the young actor. Keep watching this space for more news.]

 

So, Jensen was brought up by a guardian, Jared mused feeling less than satisfied the article hadn’t been that useful, and it also didn’t tell him who Jensen’s guardian was. Distracted and impatient he reads solidly for three hours more hours until he gets a break. With tired eyes; reading mindless drivel that occasionally mentioned Jensen and what he was doing in Hollywood, Jared found what he was looking for.

 

Daily Herald – January 2000

 

[‘Young Star Returns Home Quietly’ – Hollywood actor and local boy Jensen Ackles, now twenty, has finally returned home. Slipping quietly back to the large town house he owns the star is accompanied by his guardian and agent Jeffery Dean Morgan. Something of a wild child, Jensen’s return is somewhat of a surprise to the sleepy community. With rumors rife as to why the actor is back: with drink, drugs and partying all linked to the actors name in the last year. Maybe time at home will calm the young man down and allow him to later resume a successful career.]

 

This was more like it and Jared avidly studies every line. He has gained one answer to a piece of the puzzle at least. This Jeffrey Dean Morgan guy was both Jensen’s agent and guardian. Excited Jared makes a few scribbles in his notebook. He needs to ask Misha about this Jeffrey to see what kind of man he was like.

 

Because Jeffrey is the man who will have all the answers, won’t he?


End file.
